


Destroyed

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Frustration, Revenge, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: Gabriel Agreste is a perfectionist.And someone, something is using that against him to devastating effect.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	Destroyed

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Forgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244452) by [Talvin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvin/pseuds/Talvin). 



> Talvin wasn't going to do a sequel to his rather brilliant little piece.
> 
> He said I could, were I so inclined.
> 
> I was.

Gabriel Agreste, internationally renowned fashion designer and notorious perfectionist, was annoyed.

Agitated.

One might go so far as to say he was exceptionally peeved.

His favorite bespoke dove grey double-breasted silk sport coat appeared to have vanished from the house without a trace. Neither Nathalie or the hulking brute of a manservant had seen the article of clothing recently, or admitted to having removed it from Gabriel’s closet. The cleaning service had no record of it having arrived.

It was quite simply and impossibly -gone-.

In itself, this was enough of an irritant.

But it was just one of several items or possessions of the elder Agreste's around the expansive Paris mansion that had recently gone missing.

An expensive and cherished silver fountain pen.

An artisan-crafted engraved money clip.

His business card holder.

His favorite silk tie.

All gone.

And not just small items were being pilfered.

His personal car had been vandalised, two wheels disabled, deflated on opposite corners of the vehicle, tires gone completely flat after the filling valves had been neatly removed.

A handmade, tooled leather attaché case containing files important to his business had also disappeared without a single trace.

Someone was enacting a very personal campaign of precisely targeted harassment on the silver-haired designer.

It was enough to trigger an unpleasantly persistent headache.

Sighing with frustration, Gabriel Agreste removed his custom-made horn-rim spectacles, setting them aside on his desk while he gently rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples seeking relief from the dull, pounding ache.

His discomfort slightly alleviated, Gabriel reached for his glasses.

They were gone.

Carefully, he searched for them, tentatively groping across the entire surface of the desk, then gingerly rolling his desk chair back, aware that if they had fallen to the floor, it would be quite easy to inadvertently step on or roll over them with the wheels of his chair. More careful searching.

Gone. Vanished without a trace. Like everything else.

Gabriel flicked the switch on the intercom. “Nathalie, bring me the Vardo file. And my spare glasses.”

Nathalie appeared in the doorway a moment later, with only the spectacles case in hand.

“Where is the Vardo file? The presentation is this afternoon!”

“Sir?”

“The Vardo file! It’s not that difficult!”, Gabriel snapped, taking his spare glasses from her.

“When did you start a new project? This is the first time you’ve mentioned a ‘Vardo file’.”

Gabriel stared at Nathalie.

The Vardo project. Inspired, he would have claimed, by the traditional designs of the Roma people. Others would have (correctly) claimed he'd shamelessly committed an act of cultural appropriation. Months of research, rejecting concept after concept, pattern upon pattern, design after design, culling, distilling, creating a signature product line, everything from foundation wear to accessories.

Nathalie regarded Gabriel calmly, awaiting his detailed instruction.

“Have you gone mad, Nathalie?”, Gabriel quietly seethed. “If this is an attempt at levity, I assure you it is in exceptionally poor taste!”

Nathalie blinked calmly. “Sir?”

“I spent months on this project! The presentation to begin production and advertising is in an hour!” Gabriel was on the verge of actually losing his temper.

“Sir", Nathalie said with infuriating composure, “again, what ‘Vardo file’?”

With a scoff of visible rage, Gabriel Agreste stormed over to Nathalie’s desk, activating her computer with a flick of the mouse. “Where do you keep your files?”, he demanded.

“In the projects folder. Sir.” She was not amused.

Gabriel searched the relevant database.

Nothing.

A horrible, terrifying suspicion blossomed in the fashion designer’s mind.

He darted to the hardcopy files, searching frantically.

It was gone. Even the research notes.

Hours, days, weeks of effort.

Lost.

Irretrievably.

This was a disaster.

He’d placed a considerable amount of his own personal fortune into this project.

And now it was going to be lost.

He’d be months recovering. And an entire season, perhaps two, wasted while he tried to reconstruct his vision.

And that was after recovering from the humiliation of the now catastrophically compromised product meeting.

Numb, horrified at the realization, Gabriel staggered out of his office. “Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the week, Nathalie. I’m suddenly feeling quite unwell.”

“Yes, sir”, Nathalie nodded.

*-*-*

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Adrian's room while his master attended to his school homework, the kwami embodiment of destruction, Plagg, consumed a wedge of his favorite aged Camembert with a grin.

“Plagg, you sly devil”, the catlike ebon spirit chortled to himself, “that was positively inspired.”

By now, Adrian’s father, Gabriel Agreste, now known, accidentally revealed to the tiny daemonic presence to be none other than the villain Hawk Moth, would have discovered the extent of his most recent loss. 

There were now only two beings in the universe who knew that the lost Vardo file had even existed. And one of them was feeling justifiably vindictive.

“Buckle up, butterfly-butt”, Plagg chuckled darkly. “The show has only just begun.”


End file.
